Rhapsody Out Of Blue
by jesse6
Summary: Missing scene for Censure, 4th season. Slash. Briscoe/Logan. So there.


Rhapsody Out Of Blue 6/22/03 jesse  
  
[Censure missing scene (4th season). For culturevulture73, because you asked. ]  
  
Mike Logan stared happily, if a little fuzzily, at the ceiling above him and created a picture in his mind's eye of what he'd be seeing if there were a mirror up there. Being who he was, of course, his mind's eye just had to set it up like a crime scene.  
  
Two bodies on the varnished hardwood floor of the apartment, not far from the front door. White males, adults, both of them certainly more than old enough to know better. Naked, or close to it. Tangled so closely together that you couldn't put air, never mind paper, between them.  
  
The younger of the pair was sprawled flat on his back, his near-black hair almost the color of the floor, his skin pale against the dark wood. His older companion, who had a leaner, slender build except for oddly broad shoulders, was spilled over and around the younger man's bulkier frame. His skin was a darker, vaguely olive-golden, his hair a graying brown. The younger had his arms around the older's waist, knees raised to hold the man who was obviously his lover cradled between his legs.  
  
Well, wasn't this just the picture of post-coital bliss? Except for one thing.  
  
Mike shifted, the unyielding nature of the floor he was lying on beginning to make itself known. This elicted a soft sound of complaint from the man currently using him as a full body pillow.  
  
"Go to sleep on me and I'll hit you," Mike told him affectionately, continuing to stroke one hand idly across the small of his companion's bare back, caressing the tantalizing slope below his waist.  
  
There was an annoyed sounding huff, muffled into Mike's shoulder. "Nice. If you're this sweet to all your lovers, I know why you go through women so fast."  
  
"Nice? Well, excuse me, but this floor is hard."  
  
"So were a few other things earlier, and I didn't hear you complaining then."  
  
"Maybe I was too busy being *attacked* earlier to notice. And now I'm tired and I'd like to be someplace comfortable, and this floor isn't."  
  
"' Course it isn't. Why do you think you're on the bottom?"  
  
"I repeat: Go to sleep on me and I *will* hit you."  
  
"Hey, I'm an old guy, I need my rest."  
  
"*Old?*" Mike grinned and knotted fingers into the other man's hair, dragged his head up. "The same old guy who helped run down a suspect by the fountain today? Same guy who practically dragged me home, ripped my clothes off and shoved me down on my apartment floor, couldn't even wait to get to the bedroom? That old guy?"  
  
"What can I say?" Lennie Briscoe propped himself up on his elbows, taking some of his weight off of Mike, and smirked down at him. His hair was disheveled and hanging over his forehead, like he never wore it. Which was just as well, as it was a look that always turned Mike on. "I really do like that blue sweater, the way it fits. Probably a good thing you hardly ever wear it."  
  
"The sweater?" Mike grinned wider, surprised and intrigued by this previously unknown quirk of his lover's. "All that for the *sweater*? So, when you gonna be dumping me for Profaci?" he teased.  
  
"Right after Jordan goes to the Mets," Lennie shot back, wincing theatrically and then leaning down to kiss him hard. "You know, *that* was an image I really didn't need. You could put me off for a week or more, just thinking about it."  
  
Mike wrapped both arms around Lennie's upper back and rolled, pinning the older detective to the floor but careful not to press down with his own full weight. "Can't have that," he said, letting his voice gravel low in his throat and feeling Lennie's tiny shiver of response, seeing laughter and desire swimming in the dark gray eyes. "Lemme give you something else to think about."  
  
He leaned in and kissed Lennie slowly and thoroughly, exploring, tasting, lingering until the shiver ran through them both and Lennie's fingers began to dig against his shoulders. Mike made himself break for air and searched his lover's eyes, saw that desire was now uppermost.  
  
"Shall we move this party to the bedroom?" Lennie asked huskily.  
  
Mike just smiled what he knew was his most evil, seductive smile, and lowered his head again.  
  
"Mike? *Here*? Oh, come on, now . Mike!"  
  
finis 


End file.
